Bedtime Stories
by MysticSpiritus
Summary: Well-behaved women rarely made history. Anyone who thought Lady Hilda was well-behaved clearly never read the right history books. An experiment on captivity, contracts, and glass balls. Love might be thrown in there somewhere.
1. Chapter 1

Mystic: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll get to Conjure a Heart eventually. Life took over. This is an experiment, so just enjoy it and shut up. Actually, don't shut up. I really like reviews.

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><p><strong>Madame de Hildegarde<strong>

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><p>Lady Hilda picked at her food.<p>

She knew if she didn't eat, _he_ would question her. _Him_ with his fancy hair, fancy clothes, fancy codpiece, and frightening spells that gave even her pause. The meal itself was simple; meat, salad, bread pudding for dessert. Red wine provided drink. There wasn't any reason not to take part, unless one counted the wrecked nerves or continuous fear. So her fork scrapped at the china, and _he_ continued to stare.

"I did not bring you to my palace only to see you starve."

There it was. "Today's my birthday." Despite not eating, she still sipped at her wine.

"Might I say, lady, congratulations," he said. "I'd have taken you to the theatre if I'd known."

"And look at what I have, sorcerer. A failed marriage, no children to speak of, captive to a madman in a codpiece." Kuja stared pointedly at her, a warning. Hilda sighed. "I should have remained a courtesan."

Kuja's fork clattered on his plate. "Pardon?"

"Life would be on my terms."

He smiled because she did not. "My, my, Lady Hilda. I never pictured you a former courtesan."

"It was a comfortable career, Kuja. I'm not ashamed of it."

"I wouldn't expect you to be." A black mage silently swept the outside hall. "Might I ask how comfortable?"

"Everything I earned, I kept after my marriage. I could live quite well with just a maid, even if I never returned to the lifestyle."

Curiosity was a double-edged sword for Kuja. "Would you ever return to it? Nothing remains for you in Lindblum, I assure you."

She placed a chunk of steamed owl in her mouth. "Well, it was actually my intentions, sorcerer, but you changed my plans."

"I changed your plans?" He laughed, credulously. "That airship was supposed to contain a skeleton crew."

"You were supposed to let me go."

Another laugh. "And how boring would that have been? Keeping you alive simply adds drama to the plot." When she rolled her eyes, he wiped his mouth with his napkin before shifting closer to her. "Continue the story, my lady. Spin the romantic comedy of how a beautiful courtesan ends her career by marrying a regent."

"I'd consider it a tragedy."

"Honestly?" he asked. "Because I lately find it all to be a laugh."

And when he did laugh again, Hilda pushed away from his table and left his dining hall.

xxx

When she awoke far too early, wisps of silver flooded her vision. Kuja grinned down at her, his elbows resting by her pillow. Hilda screamed.

His hand cupped her mouth, the other went to his lips. "None of that, lady." Hilda stopped her tirade and he released her. "You never finished your romantic tragedy."

"My word," she said. She pulled the blanket closer to her body as she sat up. Kuja, terrifying mage with lovely features, hopped in bed beside her and she fought another scream. "This is not the place for such discussions."

"Considering your past profession, I'd think a bed most appropriate."

"I was a courtesan," she said. "Not a common prostitute."

"And I am aware of the difference; I lived in Treno for a number of years. Still visit from time to time." He pushed the blankets off her chest. "Indulge me, Hilda. There's a shortage of perfect breasts in the world."

His words took a minute to form fully in her sleepy mind. "Kuja, that's from a fairy tale." Her nightshift was thin, perhaps too thin for a desert.

Kuja playfully fingered the low neckline of her sleepwear. "Yet, I speak truth." When those long fingers began to tug at the fabric, he was met with a gentle slap to his knuckles. Her lips, however, were quirked upward.

"I was at that time in my life when I desired family, children. The regent, being a noble, knew he needed a wife." Fingers dallying about her throat, another body in her bed, sparked once more a long-forgotten desire. "Not my best decision."

"Many courtesans have brats running around."

"Yes, illegitimately. I didn't feel like becoming one of them."

"And where would you be if you had denied his marriage offer?"

"Enjoying the company of men like I always did." And certainly not held prisoner in a desert palace where her nights were alone and cold as in Lindblum. "And maybe ... eventually ... I would have given birth once or twice." Motherhood still was not impossible. Lady Hilda was plenty young and healthy to catch a man's seed and allow it to grow. "Cid is not the most virile, if you noticed."

"Many have noticed, lady." His fingers grazed a few strands of her hair, his gaze landed on her neckline, the bare skin that held much promise.

She watched him briefly as the purple and pink rays of dawn peeked through her curtains. Knowing the eventual answer, Hilda asked, "Sorcerer, why do you remain here this morning?"

Kuja tolerated a woman's attitude if she was beautiful to gaze upon. "As I said, lady, I still make occasional visits to Treno and I would prefer to have a lovely companion again." On his arm, by his side, a treat for the eyes to make other nobles ripe green with envy. Mayhap also, a companion with wit and ability to hold a conversation without bursting into giggles every few seconds.

"Wait here, then."

The lady performed all tasks with an air of elegance, even when she crawled out of crinkled bed-sheets and away from the warm form who watched her every move. Her movements were smooth and genteel; partly due to her years in finishing school, partly due to her own magick swimming through her veins. Once on her feet, she shook out her hair and exhaled, then grinned. An old habit returned, straightening her appearance after leaving a bed.

Kuja watched, very relaxed in his night-robes. "Are you about to bring me treasure, my lady?" He saw her bend down, rummage beneath the bed for a moment. He didn't mind at all.

When Hilda laughed, it was quiet and demure. "That all depends on how you choose to define treasure." A beautiful chest lay before them both. Truly, a masterpiece. The box was elaborate; encrusted with gold, lined with velvet, and indeed held a variety of treasure and other such spoils. Most meant for a mature audience when the sun dipped below the horizon.

"Many of my father's business partners were confident and strong men, yet also, very lonely widowers. One in particular took me under his wing." So to speak.

Eyes that normally sparked with spells currently stared with mischief. "Might I ask how many, Hilda?"

"How many what?"

"How many lovers? Gentleman callers?"

"That, Kuja, is an answer I shall take to my grave."

"Oh, please? I shall tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"You had gentleman callers?"

Kuja grimaced, scratched his head. "I really do not wish to talk about it." As the old saying states: What happens in Treno, _STAYS_ in Treno.

Hilda, wise woman that she was, decided that was a story for another time. "I was comfortable in my career because I was skilled in many areas of interest."

"Tell me which ones."

In the dim light, their smiles were cast between innocent and cunning. "I am to this day, sorcerer, a skilled politician, dancer, gardener - and even a writer."

"A good courtesan fulfills many roles," he agreed. "What fanciful tales do you create?"

"Let's just call them bedtime stories," she said with a wink. "Of course, I know how to entertain a gentleman in ways beyond talking."

He examined the contents therein the chest. "I perfectly understand the body oils; jasmine is a favourite of mine. A blindfold intensifies the touch of flesh upon flesh, and the silk rope means you have a very naughty side that I have yet to see." Hilda continued to smile, controlled her flushed face. "These, however, elude me." A long finger pointed to a pair of small, glass balls.

"Honestly, Kuja? You supposedly spend your spare time in Treno and you don't know about the ben-wa?" The balls had a modest weight when she placed them in his palm.

"Elaborate."

"Invented by midwives. Originally designed to assist a woman's recovery after childbirth." Her eyebrows quirked upward. The sorcerer was smart; he'd figure it out in a moment.

"_Ah,_" he said. Ideas and revelations swirled raucously in his mind.

"And you're probably unaware I'm using a pair right now." Kuja raised his head quickly, their eyes coming together. Then his prisoner chuckled again. "I jest, sorcerer. They're almost useless unless you're up and about on your feet."

Certain women weren't supposed to stay on their feet for extended periods of length. "That explains why you constantly walk up and down my corridors."

"Nay, Kuja. That's to stave off boredom."

"Join me in Treno then. Travel with me." There were many lovely ideas that involved jasmine oil and silk rope. "I guarantee you will not bored."

"As your companion?" She handed him a business card. "Here."

Impressed, he said, "Of course. No wonder you lived comfortably."

Hilda felt the fabric of her shift drop off her shoulder. Barely a whisper of cotton against smooth skin. "Are the terms agreeable?"

Kuja answered his companion with a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

_Mystic: I'm sorry, were you guys expecting something really naughty?_

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><p><strong>Straw into Gold<strong>

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><p>Her chambers in Lindblum required new curtains. The previous ones were musty and no longer held the scent of the wild cherry trees she adored so much. Time to stitch fresh magick in her coverings.<p>

She opened the windows before she collected her sewing kit, requested a cup of chamomile tea from the kitchens. Then came the branches and bark of a beautiful cherry tree, crushed into powder by her mortar and pestle, and lastly, prayed over with incense because that beautiful tree fell during a violent storm several nights prior.

A handmaiden dusted the spinning wheel.

Legends spoke of an impish man who once spun straw into gold. For many years, Hilda attempted to locate the spell, even searching the library of Kuja's palace. Unfortunately, he laughed off the story as mere myth while Garland thought her a ditzy whore.

Regent Cid entered his wife's chambers with nary a knock. He heard the humming first; from his wife as she sat contented, a cheery tune from her childhood; then the spinning wheel itself, a low drum of skilled hands. Powered by her foot in steady rhythm, his wife fed it blank thread and powdered cherry bark. New thread emerged in a myriad of reds and pinks, and smelled like her secret garden.

He held papers in his hands. "Darling?"

"Hello, my frog prince," she teased. Experienced fingers nimbly fed the wheel. "Have you come to sit with me tonight?"

"Well, yes, but -" Cid paused to watch his wife. Grace radiated around her like a bubble stretched and ready to pop. Her hair was down, flounced across her shoulders. "I've been checking our finances lately. Your account recently acquired a deposit."

"Mm," she mused.

"A substantial deposit." Eight figures. He counted twice.

"Mm, because I put it there."

Cid smiled and pecked her cheek. "I see," he said. "You began your career again while I was an oglop."

"Yes," she said.

He shrugged. "I don't blame you, of course. Who was the lucky bloke? Or blokes? It must have been before Kuja snatched you."

The wheel stopped abruptly. The handmaiden stopped dusting the other furniture. "Froggy-woggy," said Hilda, voice calm. "That income was earned from Kuja himself."

Luckily, Cid found a nearby chair to catch his wobbly legs. "... what?"

Her wheel spun once more. "How else do you think I passed the time?"

The regent not once thought she entertained herself by looking up at the ceiling. "You told me he never touched you."

"I said no such thing. My words were that he was polite to me, but with a soul filled with hate."

"Was he polite to you?"

"Indeed he was." Hum hum went the spinning wheel. Hilda added more powder and breathed in the flowery, cherry scent. "His fault was his mouth; he never shut up. It was nights later when I realized what I had gotten myself into."

When a young noble in line for the Lindblum regency met a pretty blonde with a slim waist and small ankles, he knew he met his perfect match. She seduced with a smile, enchanted with a wink. Her spells were ancient, from the earth, from the four winds. He promised her the world, the skies, if she'd only give her hand. She wanted family, security ... motherhood. He wanted a wife, a female always at his side in the courts ... notoriety.

"But, why?" Cid asked.

She did not look at him. "Sugar cup," she sighed, "right now, your niece's suitor is on his way to destroy my captor. Is an inquisition truly necessary?"

An emotion attuned to jealousy jabbed in his gut. The regent realized that this was what Hilda felt when she learned of him and that girl from the pub. An image of your lover with another, enjoying themselves. He understood more clearly now. "You're right, darling. I'm sorry."

Hilda glanced up from her wheel. "Are you to join me the remainder of this night?" Her lips quirked.

Cid answered her with a kiss, and the handmaiden took her leave.

xxx

"He left this for you," Zidane said.

The jewelry box was long and skinny, black velvet and lined with satin. Lady Hilda hesitated, but took the gift with a sad smile. If a tear did try to roll down her cheek, she prevented it with firm resolve. Hilda was a lady, a noble, and kept her chin up. "Thank you."

Zidane's tail swished. "Wanna know how I made it?"

Their's was not a private audience. Alexandria's young queen stood beside her new night, her expression one of demurity and love; a Burmecian dragoon with her lance, trying to tolerate a flaming ginger bounty hunter; and one little summoner who hung on every word of the knight with a tail. Through it all, Lady Hilda stitched; a fine needlepoint on a tapestry that smelled of wild cherries. "He used the last of his magick to save you." Her needle never skipped a stitch.

"Uh, yeah. That's pretty much it." Zidane snickered to himself. "Wow, regent. Your wife's pretty good."

Amarant stood against the wall, arms crossed and head down. "Kuja probably said the same thing." His words earned him a glare from Regent Cid, and a whack upside his head from Freya. It did not, however, earn nary a prick from the lady.

"I'm a sorceress; I recognize magick." Sage, rosemary, and thyme were used most often. But never did Kuja have a use for parsley. "His aura surrounds you even now."

"And something else of his was often in her," joked Amarant again.

"Ginger, shush!" Freya smacked him a tad harder.

"Rat, don't call me that!"

"Both of you QUIET!" Those sharp scoldings came not from Lady Hilda, nor from Queen Garnet, but from a horned summoner maid. She stomped her foot for more dramatic effect. "Zidane is telling a story."

So, cute, but slightly disturbing. Hilda's thread continued to dance among the fabric. "Eiko," she chided, "a lady does not use such a tone."

Oops. "I'm sorry, Miss Hil - I mean, mother."

The tail stopped its swishing. "Anyway, when I came to, he, well, didn't."

A shiny needle swam through cherry tapestry.

"Kuja didn't have a heartbeat."

_Tch!_ Tears of crimson fell on the smooth floor. All eyes turned to the lone seamstress, silent in her mishap. She stared back, placed the tip of her finger briefly to her lips. It was a minor wound, an annoyance. "Did you check for a pulse?"

"A what?"

She rolled her eyes. "Eiko."

"Yes, mother." This was her chance to really impress him. The little summoner took hold of the inside of Zidane's wrist. "Right here. Mother calls it a second heart."

Garnet looked on wide-eyed. Zidane shrugged it off. "He didn't have the first one. Mikoto took the body anyway."

Lady Hilda dropped her head in her palm. "Let me guess again: instead of giving his body a proper burial or cremation, she placed him in a glass coffin."

"Uh, yeah."

"That was stupid."

"Kuja's dead, alright?" grunted Amarant. "Who gives a rat's ass?" He moved a few feet away from a certain dragoon's wrath.

Hilda placed her tapestry to the side, stood pointedly. "Gaia should be worried. I am no run-of-the-mill sorceress from the grove; I am fae folk and our elders would not dare call Kuja a run-of-the-mill mage. He is a warlock, not some conjurer of cheap tricks!"

Garnet gasped.

"Foolishness, Zidane! Utter foolishness!" Her needlework could wait, and it would while she collected her final income. When she opened the jewelry box, she paled. "_Oh."_ She steadied herself, prevented a faint. "Excuse me."

Her heels clacked on the floor, down the corridor, to her favourite balcony. Regent Cid, seeing the sparkly, shimmering gift, chased after his wife. No one else dared to follow, they looked upon each other, silent and a bit confused.

All until Garnet dared to ask: "Why would Kuja give my aunt a necklace and a single earring?"

It was Freya who chuckled first. "Take it, Zidane. I dare you to answer this one properly."

Evil rat bitch. "That's not a necklace, babe. It's a belly chain." A silver one, studded with opals and crushed diamonds.

The queen nodded her understanding. "Alright. It is pretty, when you consider her former career."

"And, uh, that's not an earring," he said, smiling like shark before it's next kill. "It pierces something a little lower."

"The belly button? To go with the chain?"

" ...little lower ..."

Garnet blushed a shade of crimson darker than the drops of blood from a stitching mishap. Laughter from individuals who knew the world a little better than she echoed in the room. Though, there was one individual who took the teasing a little too far.

"She's a freak. Super freaky ..." sang a flaming ginger.

_Whack! _"Shut up!"

xxx

Fae elders took all matters of magick very seriously, and Lady Hilda wondered if she should summon the Headless Monks for extra guidance. She gazed at the sorcerer's gift; the chain, the ring, took several deep breaths and wiped away a tear. Nay, the Headless Monks would request a confession and instruct her to leave well enough alone. Her sixth sense would not allow her to do as such.

Except the confession. That might still be a good idea.

"Tick tock goes the clock," she chanted. "He cradled and he rocked her."

Regent Cid stood off to the side, listening.

"Tick tock goes the clock..."

Hilda noticed something else between the satin folds of the jewelry box. Hidden, for her eyes alone, sat a single silver key.

The chant remained unfinished.

Several centuries ago, whenever a fae went rogue and neglected their vocation, the elders performed a blood ritual to diminish the rogue's power. Hardly a spell of restraint, a part of their very being was removed and locked away. The Lady of Lindblum knew every word required.

Yes, a confession to the Order of the Headless would first be necessary before a journey to the realm of the Heartless.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dead Man's Chest**

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><p>One would be a fool to read only historical texts and ignore the variety of myths and legends that spoke of pure magick, pure power. If one wished to achieve an accurate version of a particular time period, they'd be wise to not neglect a true fairy tale. It did not involve a fairy godmother or evil witch, nor did it involve a dragon or poisoned apple.<p>

Lady Hilda had yet to achieve the rank of godmother, and only rogue fae folk were classified as witches. A beautiful dragon with silver scales lay buried, and most fae considered it a blasphemy to poison healthy fruit. And yet, this one fairy tale spoke only of heartbreak. Pure, pure, heartbreak.

In a secluded thatched hut deep in a forest grove, a glass coffin lay silent and lovely. The occupant did not hear the slow tick-tock of a wind-up clock overhead. He did not see the four burning candles that gave gentle light. But if one chose to believe the fairy tale, he certainly sensed a woman staring at the keyhole that locked his tomb.

Regent Cid stood with his adopted daughter, his hands on her shoulders, and watched his wife remove a silver key from the bodice of her gown. "Darling, are you absolutely sure?" A treasure chest recovered from a tamed chocobo remained in the corner, not speaking a word.

She answered, "I have no other choice." _Tick-tock tick-tock_ The coffin opened and the scent of sage surrounded them all. "He's incorrupt," her voice whispered. "That can be either good or bad."

No fear as she walked slowly around the body, a visual examination. His skin was cool to her touch, his pupils dilated when she opened his eyes, his chest cavity silent and very unlike the overhead clock. There was nothing, nothing at all until her fingers grazed the inside of his wrist. Now Hilda smiled and motioned to Cid. "Right here," she said. "Tell me what you feel."

It was several more moments, but even a human regent with no magick anywhere on his person felt the small second heart. "The pulse."

Eiko exclaimed, "He's alive?"

"Almost," her mother said. "Kuja chanted a Slow on his own body clock; his personal last stand against Garland's limit." _Tick-tock tick-tock_ "It's an old fae spell."

The regent stared at his wife, her former warden (lover, really), back and forth. "Darling, what does that even mean?"

"It means, sugar cup, in about two hundred years -give or take a few decades- Kuja will wake up perfectly healed and with full power." Her head started to throb, fingers started to twitch. "He will finish what he began."

"But he wouldn't!" Adult eyes glanced at the summoner's outburst. "Zidane said so. He said he changed, softened ..."

"Eiko, my little girl." Hilda shook her head, strolling over to her daughter and smoothing the girl's hair. "Don't tell me you believed him. This is _Kuja;_ he will say anything to anyone as long as it benefits himself. Believe me, I know."

Cid remained silent.

"But I can fix it," she said with authority, standing tall. Nimble fingers sparked. "And he certainly won't like it."

Cid chose to speak. "Darling, you cannot wake him up."

"Either I wake him now with limited strength, or he awakens in a couple of centuries with no one to stop him. Gaia does not deserve to have that risk taken!" She turned back, rested her hands on the casket. "Leave me with the body. Neither of you deserve to see this first part." A kiss fluttered on her cheek.

"Guard yourself," was all Cid replied. "Come along, Eiko." He led the girl outside the hut, left his wife alone with a madman and a treasure chest.

Underneath Hilda's gown and strapped to her thigh, waiting for its intended use, was a dagger...

xxx

Two monks in the Order of the Headless summoned the regent and the summoner. The monks never spoke, their hoods dark, their robes an itchy brown. Thick beads dangled from the cincture about their waists. Not even their eyes glistened in the candlelight. Legends warned that if one did hear them chant, it was best to run.

The sky outside turned a dark and looming silver.

When Cid and Eiko stepped forward, they witnessed the lady washing blood from her hands. One monk held a bloodied rag in his palms, the other guarded the treasure chest. Even the regent sensed the spell that forever sealed it shut.

Young Eiko, in all her years, kept staring at Kuja's body as it lay covered in a white sheet. "Mother...?" she queried, voice quiet.

Her father shushed her.

"Shall we begin then?" came Hilda, her entire being calm, stable. Until she placed her hands together, palms touching, and a circle of fire illuminated around her feet. The fire danced, swirled, billowed out her skirts before she ordered it toward the body under the sheet. It transferred and took form, knotted like the summoning circles of the ancient tribes.

_Rest now, my warrior,_ began the chant. _Rest now, your hardship is over_

Incense burned, the smoke about the entire room.

_Live wake up wake up_

Only Hilda's voice broke through the smoke and fire, knowing hands directing the flames.

_And let the cloak of life cling to your bones cling to your bones wake up wake up_

Deep breath

Kuja's chest began to rise and fall beneath the sheet, and the clock stopped.

xxx

Tea was not strong enough; the lady needed coffee and lots of it. Cid poured both her and himself a large cup. "That was incredible," he finally said, sitting down beside her. "I forget how strong you are."

She wanted to laugh, but all that came was a sad little chuckle. "I'd worry for Eiko, but I think she's seen far worse." No cream, no sugar, black and stout to settle her nerves. She drank it down quickly.

"She's playing with that chocobo a couple of the mages have raised. Bobby Corwen, I think?"

"Hmph," Hilda shrugged. "Meanwhile, I have to send a report to the fae council. By the eidolons, I hate paperwork."

Forget the coffee. This was a job for ale. "I'd love to read that report." He sipped from his mug. He liked his coffee bitter to better help him focus on whatever tasks required of him. Black Mage Village certainly didn't disappoint. "Is it true what they say about you, darling?"

"That depends on what exactly was said," she coyly winked.

His turn to laugh. "I've found most of _that_ to be one-hundred percent accurate." And to think he almost lost it all because of a one-night stand. "I mean your ancestry."

"Daughter of Merlin," came a very unhappy voice. Very very unhappy.

Hilda looked up behind her. "Hello, sweetie." Now empty, her coffee cup was useless.

"That's very clever," Cid said.

The white sheet was crumpled back by the glass coffin, now empty of its corpse. And while the Headless Monks continued to stand guard at the doorway, a disgruntled sorcerer made his way past them. "Give it back, you little witch!"

Hilda deliberately placed one foot on the sealed chest in front of her chair. "You want this, Kuja? You want what's in here? No."

"You had no right to take it!"

"Oh, please. It's not like you ever used it."

Per their rule, all brothers in the Order of the Headless carried a sword. They remained in their silent state, but one placed his hand on the hilt of his blade. A warning.

Kuja noticed.

They'd given him clothes, a gray robe that didn't compliment his complexion or his eyes. He looked hideous and plain. When he left the top untied, a jagged, raised scar marred his flesh. His perfect flesh. Not even his old chest armor would conceal it. "You marked me, lady. I'm scarred."

"Meh, I'm trained in sorcery, not surgery."

Cid simply sipped his coffee. "And why is he even here?" asked Kuja, defiant.

"He's my husband. Where else would he be?" Before Kuja could open his mouth further, Hilda held up her hand, wagged a finger in his direction. "And don't you dare say anything smart, 'less I make you eligible for the Order of the Headless too."

Level One heresy to remove their hoods, the sorcerer recalled. He eyed both, suddenly weary. "You have to be an elder -"

"Which I am." It was only when Hilda smoothed back her hair or lift off her veil did one see the slight point of her ears. "It's a rank based upon power, not wrinkles, and a good thing too. I'm still gorgeous."

"I'd agree with that," said Cid with a smug grin.

Something in the sorcerer's stomach turned a few somersaults. Still, he didn't step away when the courtesan stood on her feet and ignored all sense of personal space. Softly, but without hesitation, she stroked the side of his face, just once. "You will behave yourself, Kuja, because you are no longer the most powerful mage on this earth."

The regent retained his smug grin.

"I did not come here to be your courtesan again like you so desired. Though, I do appreciate your gifts. Cid does too." A fire blazed in her eyes, a throwback to the chant still coursing in her veins. "Our prior contract is null and void; I don't entertain two men at once." Pause. "Anymore."

Cid choked and sputtered on the last of his coffee. "...what?"

He went ignored. Kuja currently attempted to stare down a woman who once feared and trembled at his words. Along with absence in his chest, he sensed the absence of what used to make him _him._ His chants, his spells, he no longer felt the magick in his body. A whisper of it remained. "What role do you play, lady?"

"I came here as you requested, but I did so on my terms. The most powerful mage on this earth stands before you now; you will not find her on some throne in Alexandria or playing out in the fields like any little child." The blaze sparked again, yet he still didn't step back. "Basically, Kuja, I rule." Stern, unafraid, yet somehow, still feminine.

His whisper of magick remained just that: a whisper, a flutter, like a white mage earning their first cloak. Kuja stepped back.

A sealed treasure chest sat quietly amongst them all.

Surprising them all, Hilda spoke again; this time, in her native tongue. "_You broke my heart, sorcerer; I took necessary retribution."_

The regent thought she simply added another curse, but Kuja knew better. He understood every word.

Lady Hilda gathered up her skirts, fought back a tear, and left. The chest looked on in longing. She was its guardian.

"Women," was all Kuja had left to muster. "Fae women."

Regent Cid laughed, but one of actual pity. "Welcome to my world."

This situation was shameful, utterly shameful and disfiguring. Broken, scarred, pitied by a man who used to be a bug. A romantic tragedy if he ever saw one, and he had seen many at the old opera house. His foot bumped the treasure chest; he recoiled. The seal burned him through the gray robes.

If any one sorceress were to guard his very heart, who better than the pretty fae, Madame de Hildagarde.

_**Fin**_

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><p><em>Mystic: Ugh, this was painful. But damn fun! Definitely an experiment, so if my prose, plot, characterization, or anything else is lackluster, please feel free to tell me. You will not hurt my feelings. I've learned through this though, that I prefer to write Lady Hilda as fae folk, not blood mage so To Conjure a Heart is going to be a tad tricky to complete. I still like to spam outside media. BBC's Doctor Who (The Long Song, Order of the Headless) and Merlin (again, BBC Merlin, not Disney). <em>

_Did I get it all? Maybe? Let me know if you're still confused. See ya'll next time. :)_


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